Tangled Tales
by Sossity
Summary: Fragments in the life of a future Knight Captain. Chapter 2: Probably not worth the wait.
1. Chapter 1

So I've been wanting for a long time to sort of get inside my characters' heads through filling some of the gaps in the NWN2 OC with just some little conversations here and there that show something about the characters. I know I'm not the first one to do something like that here, and I hope I'm not stepping on anyone's feet. I swear I came up with the idea separately. Maybe eventually I'll expand this into an overall narrative of the whole game, but this is what I have so far. To start with, here's a little piece of my PC's childhood.

* * *

Daeghun leaned against the door frame and held the side of his head. Glazed eyes wandered away from the little firebrand in front of him and paced the side of their house. _Is he _still_ talking? _he wondered to himself. Human anatomy wasn't the elf's most knowledgeable subject, but he was fairly sure that they were supposed to breathe a bit more than That Child was doing at the moment.

"...and then the elephant ran away from the old wizard but its tail got wrapped around his foot and he slipped and fell and got dragged for about a mile before he got away and the rest of the caravan just sat and laughed and the beautiful fairy princess came over and made sure it weren't broken and..."

That Child was how old, again? eight? Could it be possible that Daeghun had been taking care of him for that long without going insane?

"...and the wolf started singing and the evil witches had to start dancing 'cause the wolf was under a spell, remember? So the troll grabbed the princess while they were dancing and couldn't grab her back and carried her off to the Land of Forgotten Dreams so she could try and remember her sister and maybe stop the evil Lord Smith from taking over her parents's kingdom 'cause her sister (who she couldn't remember) was a really good sorceress who spent all her time with the animals of the forest and--"

"Bramble." Daeghun winced. Of course, he would never say a word against the memory of That Child's mother, but what on earth had possessed her to name her only son after the bloody thorns that kept popping up everywhere and tearing everyone's ankles to shreds? Actually, now that he thought about it, she may have had more foresight than most people had given her credit for. "Bramble. Please. Just tell me how on earth you managed to black your eye _without"_--he held up a finger as That Child began to speak--"any more long and pointless stories."

"I was _getting_to that!" Bramble exclaimed in high dudgeon. "See...uh...when the evil Lord Smith was defeated by the two sorceresseses, he kind of fell backwards and...hit me in the face...with his wand!"

"Bramble."

Apparently, That Child recognized his foster father's exasperated tone, because he deflated and said, "well, it's mostly true. I mean, it wasn't the sorc'resses, but Lorne Starling did hit me in the eye. But I guess it wasn't no accident, neither."

"That was terrible grammar. I thought you were raised better than that. Now why would Lorne Starling want to hit you?"

"He just doesn't like me." Bramble shrugged. "He's always callin' me names, and I guess he doesn't like me sayin' it back. But believe me, dad, they were better names than anything that tree stump ever thought of," he said with pride. "An' now he's got a few bruises too. Well...one, anyway. But it's a big one. Probably."

Daeghun was at a loss for words. What could he say? Don't fight? Except in self defense? Such as when a ten-year-old as big as Daeghunhimself punches you in the eye? He shook his head, thinking that moral decisions became much more complicated after half a life of killing monsters for a living. He went into the house for a minute and came out with what he hoped was a clean rag. "Here," he sighed, handing it to the boy.

"Uh, thanks?" That Child said, then giggled. "I'll treasure it always!"

"Don't bother. Just dip it in the well and soak your eye with it for a few minutes. That should help with the swelling." A piece of raw meat would probably be better for it, but That Child was surprisingly squeamish and would barely touch that sort of thing when cooked, let alone still bleeding. No, this was the best option. "And get us some water for cooking while you're there!" Daeghun yelled after the hurrying boy.

* * *

Bramble ran laughing to the well with a hundred invisible shades chasing him. They were really mad now, and only the magic cloth given to him by the king could stop them. One of them grabbed at him. He dodged to the right, and gave the monster a face-full of Daeghun's rag--no. The Potholder of Absolute Goodness? Maybe. But now they were coming at him from all sides! He dissolved one, then another, but they were pressing in and-- "Waaugh!" He leapt about a foot and relaxed when he realized it was Bevil holding onto his arm and not some scary creature from his imagination.

"Care-careful, Bram. You a-almost fell into the well."

"Huh?" Bram looked around and saw that Bevil was right. "Oh. Thanks." Well, he was here, he might as well do what his father told him to. He tied his bucket to the rope, pushed it down into the murky depths of the dragon's mouth (which apparently got lined with stones somehow) and reached for the crank.

"H-here, let me help," Bevil offered, grabbing the shaft and turning it with the smaller boy.

Bram wasn't exactly the strongest kid in the village and although he could have handled the chore by himself with some effort, he was grateful for the company. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud, but he wouldn't chase Bevil away, either. After an eternity and a half, the bucket finally came back up. Bram grabbed it, untied it, and set it down onto the grass, flopping down next to it.

Bevil sat down too as his best friend dipped his washcloth in the cold water and held it over his injury. "Hey, I-I just want-want-wanted to say sorry about my brother," he said sheepishly.

"It's okay. I mean, it's not like _you_ hit me."

"But I should have...should have..."

"Come on, you know Lorne's not gonna listen to you. Heck, I know he does worse to you all the time."

"It-it's not that bad, really. Besides, I know enough not to tell him he looks like a, like a bunged-up wolverine. What does a bunged-up wolverine look like, anyway?"

"Like Lorne. Jeez, how can plain water sting so much?" Bram absent-mindedly stuffed the wet rag into his pocket and rose. "Hey, wanna come have dinner at my house? Dad won't be too mad."

"Nah, my mam wants me to h-help with the potatoes. Are you going to be al-alright?"

"Don't worry about me. How long can a few bruises last? I'll be fine by tomorrow, you'll see!" Bram threw the bucket of water over his shoulder, dousing himself in the process, and sauntered off, attacking more invisible monsters.

***

Daeghun was lighting a fire in the hearth that evening when That Child finally returned, soaked from head to foot and covered in insect bites. He closed his eyes and wondered if they'd both make it through another decade.


	2. Chapter 2

"All right. O-okay, this time, try to actually put your sword up," Bevil suggested. He moved his own wooden practice sword into position and waited for Bram to do the same. The other boy hesitated, then warily held the glorified stick at arm's length.

"You're not going to hit me again, are you?"

"Only if you don't defend yourself."

"Ergh."

"This is for your own good. Here I come!" Bevil swung. Bram immediately dropped the sword onto the ground and threw his arms in front of his face like he'd been doing for the last hour-and-a-half. Bevil pulled the blow, but--

"Ow!"

"Sorry!" He paused. "Now, do you see what you did wrong there?"

* * *

Amie looked up from her chores and peered through her mentor's open bedroom door. Tarmas had spent last night as he usually did--deeply involved in a tome or theoretical study or whatever "mysteerious" pastimes wizards of his level of mastery did, forgetting yet again that his body had needs as well as his mind. This morning, he was paying the price for lack of sleep. Late this afternoon he'd wake and most likely fulfill his stomach; he'd been neglecting it for the past two days. That gave Amie several hours on her own in which Tarmas expected her to see to the upkeep of their living quarters.

Amie quietly set down her broom and walked over to the wizard's scattered books. Sure, the alchemy equipment would be more fun, but it would also be certain to get her in deep trouble. She picked up a volume on the nature of bardic music and got comfortable.

* * *

Bevil panted a bit, and regarded the smaller fourteen year old with a frustrated stare. He'd done a little bit of good for Bram's defense. Unfortunately, that only meant that instead of simply dropping his sword, he closed his eyes and waved it wildly in whatever direction he thought Bevil was coming from.

"Why are we doing this again?" asked Bram tiredly.

"Because we're Harbormen. That means things are going--are going to attack us. Do you _want _to get eaten by Lizardfolk?"

Bram stuck the point of his sword into the soggy ground and leaned on it. "Why, are they starving out there in the swamp? Are the swamp beetles getting so hard to find that they have to start roasting other things, too? Gee, better warn your mum to lock up the animals! She could of put Lorne in there with them, but he already got away."

Bevil narrowed his eyes. That was going a bit too far. "Someday," he warned, "someday that mouth of yours is going to get you in as much trouble as any monster out th-there ever will." He turned to go.

"Wait!" Bram held up his hand. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it. I know I need to watch it. Sometimes things just...come out. Forgive me?"

"Yeah. 'Course I will. Always do, don't I?" Bevil thought for a moment and smiled. "But you have to do something for me."

"Anything."

"Tell Wyl Mossfeld you want to practice fighting with _him_ instead. I've been too damn easy on you."

Bram gulped and nodded. He was about to reply when he saw someone striding up to them. "Amie! Tarmas let you out for a walk?"

"Sort of. Apparently I was 'disturbing his sleep with my chores.' What's _really_ unfair is that I wasn't even _doing_ them! Not that I was going to tell him that. So, what are you two up to?"

Bevil blushed, and replied "I was t-trying to show Bram a little bit of sword work. H-he really needs to learn to defend himself better." He glanced at the teenager in question.

"_Bram?_ With a _sword_?!" Amie couldn't help letting out a peal of incredulous laughter. The thought was apparently more than she could handle, as she sat down hard in the dirt with tears running down her face.

"It's not _that_ funny," muttered a mortified Bram. "Hey, Dad's taught me to handle a bow. I don't see why I can't stick to that."

"Because the sight of you with an aimed weapon makes grown men faint," replied Amie. "No offense, but you're a bit absent minded. Ah! But I think I've found the answer to all your troubles!" She held up a handful of papers filled with hasty, cramped writing. "Bardic music!"

"...Bardic music?"

"Yes! Bardic music! You've got the best voice in the village, you can play any instrument you can get your hands on, you always have a tale for every possible situation, you know almost as many bits of weird history as Tarmas and me--you'd be a _perfect _bard! Plus, it'll be the perfect excuse to see the world when you get older."

"Why would I want to see the world?"

"Who wouldn't want to see the world? Come on, Tarmas might still be awake. And maybe he won't be too upset that I've been getting into his books again."

* * *

"You were doing _what_ with my extremely valuable collection of magic books?"

"Told you this was a bad idea," Bram muttered.

"I was helping a friend! And I didn't hurt anything!"

"A _friend,_" Tarmas repeated, running his eyes skeptically over the motley group. "I suppose I can guess which one of these two ruffians put you up to this. I will certainly be speaking to both of your respective parents, and don't expect to--"

"No, sir, it was all my idea!" Amie stepped forward bravely. "Please, just think about it for a minute, and you'll see it's perfect!"

"Hmmm..." Tarmas glared at the boy in question.

Bram nervously pointed at the door. "I've, uh, got to get back and make supper in case Dad comes back from his hunting trip tonight..."

"Sit, boy."


End file.
